𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓻𝔂...

❤︎“𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘'𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮. 𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓘'𝓶 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓮.”❤︎

𑁍 This is an reader insert interactive blog // non canon x canon // reader friendly // nsfw & sfw // minors DNI // read the rules and follow the guide to allow for proper conduct.

𑁍 The purpose of this blog is to enhance the volume of content for the Silmarillion elves and other various mentioned characters as well.

𑁍 This blog is run by me, Mina | 25 | she/her. You can also find me @doodle-pops.

𑁍 Rules

𑁍 Character List

His gaze merely darkened, followed by his lips quirking with that familiar wolfish grin as he stepped closer and reached out to tilt your chin upwards. “Then I won’t be,” he murmured with promise. “But don’t expect me to stop worshipping you while I do.”

"Fëanor, I made a pair of earrings out of the growth plates from the deer spine I found in the woods. What do you think?"

Slowly he turned with his dark brows arching while he took in the strange trophies dangling from your fingers. Carefully the corner of his mouth twitched where he felt a grin emerging. “How macabre and fascinating. Allow me to witness the craftsmanship, but first tell me, are there more?”

Maedhros: My love, what on Arda are all these for? Your hair is beautiful the way it is; why would you want to hide it?

Y/N: *smiles* I appreciate the compliment, darling, but I’m not trying to hide my hair, at least not in the way you’re thinking.

Maedhros: *confused* Oh?

Y/N: In my culture, when a woman gets married, her hair becomes sacred and is only to be shared with her husband. *pauses to grin up at Maedhros* So starting on our wedding day, my hair will be for your eyes and pleasure alone.

“Then I shall consider myself the most honoured man in all of Arda,” he murmured, as his hand lifted to gently brush a strand of your hair one last time. “I shall cherish it all the more.”

Argh, this is difficult for speak of! I’m sorry for my impertinence! But I need to know these things so I can be prepared. Are you allowed to…enjoy your own body? Will I even be able to handle sex with an elf? Beren and Luthien, Tuor and Idril, they were always elf maidens with men, not the other way around! And you Noldor are…tall.

A low, amused airy laugh left Gil-Galad as he rose from his seat and came to stand before you. “You ask what any brave soul in your place would.” He reached a hand out to cup your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye. “Yes, I’ve waited. No, I’ve never lain with another. Yes, I’ve touched myself—do not look so mortified. And as for whether you’ll manage…” His lips curved slightly, eyes glittering with both mischief and warmth. “You’ve faced court diplomacy. You’ll survive me.”

She has been banned by Elrond himself from the kitchen, greenhouse number 5 where they’d grow the soup mushrooms, and the east training arena that’s right near the armory)

———————————

Wizard reader: “You know Glorfindel I think I’ve gotten the hang of this new spells have that helps me grow plants faster. Plus practicing is safer with less fall out because it involves water, light, and healing magic. I mean I haven’t caused an explosion in like 7 weeks! That’s almost 2 months my world time…you think Elrond will let me back into the kitchen-!!!!”

*the wizardess is cut off by the sound of an unrelated to her explosion in the distance*

Glorfindel: *blinks a few times staring off into the distance before turning back towards reader to start to say something before she cuts him off*

Wizard reader: “I was Not the cause of that”

Staring at the rising plume of smoke, he blinked, then glanced back at you, lips parting to speak—only to pause and deeply consider his next words. Humming, more to himself with his arms folding loosely across his chest, he concluded. “…Seven weeks is still a personal best. But if I must be truthful…you are most likely going to be banned for life.”

Blinking behind the rise in red growing on his cheeks, the flower crown tipped slightly as he leaned in with a slow, amused grin. “If you keep serenading me like this,” he whispered playfully, “I may have to keep you with me at all. I live for them.”

Glorfindel: What power? What are you talking about, my love?

Y/N: I have the higher grounds now. It's over.

Glorfindel: ...what on Arda are you talking about? What higher grounds do you have? You're just standing on the counter to look taller than me...

Y/N: Exactly! I'm more powerful that you! You must obey me from now on! Muhahaha

PS: I really love your blog! So cute 💕

Standing there with an amused brow, he crossed his arms as he looked up at you. “You’re standing on a counter, Y/N. I’m still taller even when you’re on it,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “But this power you speak of…it seems quite fragile because if you fall and break something, I’m not carrying you to the healers. That’s what your great power gets you.”

Y/N: Elrond, if you were a bird and I a worm. Would you love me or eat me?

Blinking, tired with dirt still smudged across his cheek and a smear of dried orc blood on his bracer, his lips twitched. “I would starve,” he said simply, brushing past you to unbuckle his sword, then following his response with a smart comment. “Worms are hardly worth the indigestion.”

“Kano, you better turn off that harp or so help me god I will strangle you with all those strings,” I grumbled from under the sheets.

“But my love, a little morning melody will brighten one day. Also, it is past 8 in the morning. Do you plan on sleeping out the entire day?”

Peeking out from under the sheets, I cast him a murderous expression. “Kano.”

Plucking one final, defiant string before raising an amused brow, he grinned. “You threaten me with violence, yet call me love in the same breath. Truly, I live dangerously.” Gently, he set the harp aside with a smirk, and leaned down to kiss your temple. “Sleep then, grumpy beast. But I’ll be back—with drums.”

Maedhros: Love, do you mind rolling over a bit. My arm is numb

Y/N who picks herself up and climbs off the bed and moves to sit on the chaise instead, eyes teary and grumpy: Are you happy with your space now?

He sat up quickly, hair a tousled mess, guilt stamped across his face. “Valar, that’s not what I meant.” Crossing the room in two strides, scooped you up from the chaise with barely a grunt, and carried you back to bed. “I swear you’re more dramatic than Maglor. You’re my favourite weight. Stay put.”

"Oh fuck! Jamie!" A hand slapped across your mouth the moment the name flew past your lips, causing Feanor to pull away and stare at you in disappointment.

A brow arched and his eyes narrowed, ready to blow a fuse. "Jamie?"

"Umm...sorry," you whispered, covering your face with a sheepish grin. "It's uh...a character from a book I was reading who I really liked...ehe. It slipped out."

A moment of silence passed before his fingers gripped your chin, tilting your face upward to meet his piercing eyes. “A book character, you say,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone, letting the silence that followed rang out. “You rather moan—” his hips snapped forward to bury himself deeper to the hilt, earning a sweet cry from you and your nails curling into his biceps “—a fictional man’s name when a real man is giving you pleasure?”

You didn’t get the opportunity to respond, for his lips came crashing down upon yours, biting and tugging with a ferocious only seen when jealous. Growling against your lips, he smirked at the sounds of your whimpers. “You will spend all night in this bed, learning to call the right name, or you will not feel satisfaction at all. Mistake or not.”

"Your skin is so soft, delicate, squishy," he whispered before his fingers reached y/n's stretch marks.

At the contact, y/n froze and pulled away. "Please don't. There's nothing soft or delicate about stretch marks."

He caught your hand gently, pulling it back to his chest as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Then I must be blind,” he said lowly and gently, “because I see something beautiful, and I don’t plan to stop loving it. They’re part of you, and that makes them beautiful and worth loving.”

His golden brows furrowed as he gave you a sharp glance, clearly amused by your words. “I prefer if you didn’t start with me. I don’t believe I’m on the menu for lunch,” he teased, giving Asfaloth a gentle nudge to quicken his pace.

As he rode past you, he didn’t hesitate to lean in and whisper in your ear, “But I am on the menu for dinner and dessert tonight,” before winking and riding off.

There was a glimmer of amusement swimming in his eyes with quiet fondness as he leaned forward slightly, golden hair catching the light. “I would praise your resilience,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Where elves endure, you fight. And that fire is beautiful. I am amazed at your strength and courage.”

There was a twitch of his lips as he watched the chaos unfold, eyes flicking from your mutt to Salgant’s outraged sputtering. “A fitting name,” he amusing muttered while crossing his arms. “He’s got the look of a war criminal and the morals of a goblin. I like him.”

He didn’t move at first—his eyes flicked over you like he was examining the blade of a half-finished sword. Then, with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he tossed the ingot your way with a clang. “Nothing,” he said, turning back to his work. “Just never heard you call me Atar like you meant it.”